The loneliness and the scream
by wolfypuppypiles
Summary: rewrite of that scene in the season 5 finale where Stiles was STABBED IN THE CHEST WITH A HUGE ASS SHARD OF GLASS AND WALKED IT OFF. yeah.
1. Chapter 1

Stiles could hear screaming coming from the living room. Animalistic grunts and growls that gave away the two occupants of the room. Stiles knew the desert wolf wanted him dead but right now she was trying to kill Malia so he figured it was more important. Braeden was nowhere in sight but the line of mountain ash was still intact, keeping the two battling coyotes trapped in the house and giving Malia no way to escape.

If he broke the line of ash he knew the desert wolf would be free and she could hurt more people. She could go after him. But he also knew that leaving Malia trapped in there with her would almost surely seal her death. He may not be in love with her but she would always be important to him and more than that she was pack.

Steeling his nerves the human crouched down and broke the line. The sounds of fighting stopped, leaving only silence as Stiles walked into the house, hands tugging on his bag straps nervously.

"Malia?"

The boys head turned to the hallway just as a strangled moan escaped Malia's lips.

"Stiles….don't..she's here."

Stiles took a step towards her voice but didn't make it more than a few inches as Malia's mother leapt at him, a scream erupting from his throat as he toppled to the ground. The weight of her body pushed the air out of his lungs and made his head smack onto the floor. He could feel the contents of his back pack crush under their combined weight.

His eyes scrunched closed in pain, sparks lighting up the insides of his eyelids, before he was lifted again and thrown to the mess of glass on the floor where Melissa's coffee table used to be. The teenager threw his arms out to catch himself but the strength of the were-coyote gave him no chance of stopping the momentum she had started him on.

The skin of his hands were pierced, sharp and stinging, with glass as he tried to protect himself and his elbow smacked onto a piece of the metal frame, bruising the skin immediately. But the pain that stole his breath, filled his mind and vision with white, was the shard of glass that pierced his shoulder. Stiles' could focus on nothing but the sharp, invading, wrongness of having something stabbed into your body, forced through layers of clothing, skin, muscle and flesh. His breath was caught in his chest as it tightened in pain.

Ignoring the glass cutting into his palms, the boy rolled onto his back, onto an awkward lean on his back pack which thankfully protected his back from any damage from the carpet of glass. There, protruding from his shoulder like a stake in the ground, was the shard of glass, blood already smeared across the shining surface.

He thought he may have heard screaming, someone saying his name, but his thoughts were clouded. Lifting his head he looked towards the doorway to see the desert wolf tackle a terrified looking Malia out of the house, over the broken line of mountain ash. The fighting sounded further and further away, gunshots ringing out before a particularly loud roar, before they faded into the distance.

The house was left in silence, Stiles' own broken gasps the only sound left to break the still air.

He was alone and he was going to die.

…

Lydia spun around, hair flying, making her neck sting under its bandage. There was something tickling at her ears. Something desperate that needed to be heard. She closed her eyes, forgetting the locked door for now, as she concentrated on her hearing.

There was a….sharpness. A tinkling like glass breaking, crunching under something and then… a gasp. The banshee frowned and scrunched her nose in frustration. She could hear nothing more but she knew it was important. It always was. Someone needed help and if she could help them she would. Looking back to the locked doors of the strange room she had been dropped into by Scott, she knew before she saved anyone else she had to save Mason.

….

Stiles turned his head back to the piece of glass and raised a shaking hand to the protrusion, touching gently as he attempted to tug it to see how deep it had buried itself. However the slightest touch sent a shock of pain down his arm, right to his fingertips, as the glass moved deep within his shoulder. He had only one arm usable, with the glass so deep it would be dangerous to move without the risk of severing something important. Though Stiles considered all of him important he also knew that there was an artery running near his armpit and that he would bleed out in minutes if it was cut.

Raising his good hand, Stiles grimaced and clenched his teeth as he pushed down around the shard, trying to put pressure on the fast bleeding wound. His hand pressed to the wet fabric of his shirt and slid his skin painfully around the glass. He let a groan escape before he could stop it and blinked away his tears. He would be okay. If he kept the bleeding under control and stayed awake till someone came he would be fine. If someone came.

It was hard to breathe and the human tried not to panic as his chest grew heavier. He fidgeted in pain as he pressed on his shoulder again and tried to think of how to get his phone out to call someone. He could feel the wetness of blood spreading through his shirt and over his skin as he grew colder. Stiles knew this was bad, he knew because he was getting tired and had started to shiver all over. He had hit his head when he was thrown the first time and the throbbing and heaviness of his head was not helping his concentration.

It seemed his energy was dripping out of him with his blood, staining the carpet red and seeping the heat from his skin. He needed to stay awake but his eyes were already heavy and his limbs were growing clumsy. He was alone, if he passed out before he got help he would bleed out and could die before anyone got there. Stiles took as deep a breath as he could manage and laid out his plan.

Call for help. Stop the bleeding. Stay awake. He could manage that. This was nothing compared to some of the situations he had been in before, he had already died once and that hadn't been so bad. So it had come with some consequences…a lot of consequences, but it couldn't be too bad if you didn't cheat and come back like they had the first time. And this time his dying wouldn't have anything to do with the Nematon so it couldn't possibly screw anything up. Although the universe always had a funny way of turning everything into a shit show in this town.

Stiles bit his lip as he thought about how his dad would react to seeing his only son in this condition. He hated to worry his dad but he needed help and he needed someone here that knew about the supernatural, in case the desert wolf came back to finish him off. Calling an ambulance without anyone else here to protect the potential civilian casualties was out of the question and Scott and the others were busy with the beast. Calling his dad it was.

Knowing the bleeding would get worse once he removed his hand, Stiles tried to be quick. Rolling over a little to allow access to his back pocket the kid took his wet hand away from his soaked shirt and fumbled for his phone. It hurt to move so much and he let out a few grunts but finally caught his slippery fingers on his phone and pulled it out of his pocket. The struggle had used much of his last energy and he slumped back to the floor once he had his phone in front of him.

His red fingers left smudges of blood on the screen as he called his father and his vision blurred in exhaustion. His fingers, slippery and clumsy from fatigue, almost dropped the phone twice before he finally pushed the right buttons and heard it calling his dad.

Stiles let his heavy arm flop to the floor with his phone by his head and listened to the ring tone as he looked at the picture of his dad that he had taken for the contact photo. They had been eating dinner when he took it, his dad right in the middle of a bite of his salad burger and while it wasn't the prettiest picture of his father, Stiles loved it. His dad was relaxed, out of uniform, just spending some time with his kid. And he looked happy in it.

Stiles listened to the ring tone end as his dad picked up with a gruff hello.

"Dad….help."

His eyelids dropped, too tired and out of breath to say anything more and his eyes closed looking at his dad's photo. He could hear only his father yelling his name as he slipped into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

The sheriff answered his phone with the wariness of someone who had had to deal with the supernatural far too much in one week but when he heard the wet gasps of his only son all else slipped from his mind.

"Stiles?"

Rasping gasps, a pained whimper.

"Dad….help."

"Stiles!"

There was no reply but the sound of his boy trying desperately to breathe.

"Stiles where are you? I'm coming okay? I'm coming son."

The Sheriff put his phone on speaker and picked up the phone on his desk instead, dialing the well-known number while looking at the framed photo of his son on his desk, praying to everything he would be okay.

"Sheriff?"

"Scott! Please tell me you know where Stiles is."

The Sheriff could hear the rest of the kids on the other end of the phone and had to strain to hear Scott's answer.

"Yeah, he's at my house. He was going to help Malia with the desert wolf. Why do you sound so panicked?"

"He called me but something's wrong. He only asked for help and then nothing, just his breathing but he sounds hurt and he won't respond. Scott if the desert wolf is still there I'm going to need you to do something about her."

"What? Okay, we'll be there as soon as we can, he'll be okay, I promise."

The background chatter went quiet as Scott talked and John thanked the kid and hung up. Grabbing his phone, The Sheriff ran out of the station to his car, talking to Stiles the whole way.

"I'm coming son, just hold on."

….

Lydia could hear Scott talking on the phone and everyone quietened when he started telling The Sheriff that someone would be okay. Lydia knew it was Stiles. If it was the Sheriff calling, panicked, about someone then it had to be but she could hear him too. She could still hear that gasping, it sounded strangled and shallow but she knew it was him.

There was a thread in her chest tugging, being pulled so tight it made it hard to breathe. She needed to be with him.

"Scott we have to hurry."

Scott turned to Lydia, phone still in hand despite already having hung up. His eyes were worried and desperate.

"Did you?" Scott wasn't sure what to ask but Lydia nodded.

"I can hear him." Everyone turned to Scott for leadership but the Alpha was close to tears. The packs Banshee can hear his brother, and that only ever meant one thing. He felt sick, how many times ha this happened? How many times had Stiles gotten hurt trying to save someone? It was just a matter of time before he got hurt so badly he…

Scott closed his eyes for a moment and concentrated on breathing. He had seen both The Sheriff and his mother do similar things when they needed to concentrate on their work to save someone. He breathed deep, concentrated, and calmed down enough to think about the next logical step. Opening his eyes, the Alpha addressed his pack.

"The Desert wolf was there with Malia and Braeden and if they can't help him then we have to assume they're still fighting. Our job is to get the Dessert Wolf away from Stiles so that we can get an ambulance in without any civilians being hurt."

The pack nodded and immediately went for the cars, Lydia running faster than any of them.

….

John drove faster than he should have, with more emotion shaking his hands than he should have been driving with, but nothing would keep him from his son when his kid needed him. The father tried to shake away the dark thoughts swirling around in his mind. Stiles driving with the same recklessness, same tears in his eyes as he tried to find his dad. Stiles finding him there bleeding, the way he would as soon as he got to the McCall home.

John could still hear Stiles' labored breathing through the phone and almost drove the car right off the road when it suddenly stopped. It sounded strangled, the kid struggling for a moment before his breathing ceased. He sounded like he was drowning. John felt his heart pounding in his chest, hard and fast against his rib-cage, as he pushed harder on the accelerator and yelled out to his son through his emotion thick throat.

"No, no, no. Come on Stiles, keep breathing kid! I'm almost there, Dad's almost there just hold on! Stiles!"

John drove wildly, speeding recklessly as he tried to see through his tears, until he finally came to a swerved stop in front of the McCall home. The Sheriff could see Malia and Braeden taking on the Desert wolf and sprinted past them, into the house.

There was carnage everywhere, broken furniture and bullet holes in walls, but what stopped him in his tracks was the sight of his boy, covered in blood among the wreckage of what once was a glass table. He almost stopped breathing himself when his eyes caught the glint of the large shard of glass. It was slick with blood, the blood that was soaked through Stiles' shirt and the carpet beneath him, and pierced through the chest of his son.

Stiles' eyes were closed when The Sheriff knelt beside him, but his lips… his lips were blue.

…

Lydia lent forward in her seat, knee bouncing as she begged the car to drive faster even though she knew Scott was driving as fast as he could. The sound of Stiles' breathing got louder, the wet gasps sounding as if they were from right beside her until, after a strangled gurgle, they stopped.

Lydia held her breath as she waited for Stiles' gasps to return. But there was nothing. Her hands came up to cover her mouth as she let out a sob. He wasn't breathing.

"Scott you have to drive faster!" She didn't know how Scott could understand her through the lump in her throat but the acceleration of the car told her he did. Liam took her hand in comfort but Lydia hardly felt his touch because she could feel it creeping. It was swirling up from her chest and making its way into her throat and there was no way she could stop it. She was going to scream.


	3. Chapter 3

Scott stopped the car in front of his house and immediately saw Malia and Braeden with the Desert Wolf. Scott hesitated between the house and the fight, Lydia sprinting right past him into the house. Liam and Kira nodded to their Alpha.

"Go help Stiles, we got this!"

Scott nodded gratefully before following Lydia.

His house was destroyed and his heart momentarily sank at the knowledge that his mother couldn't afford to fix it all. His mind was cleared of everything, however, when sobbing met his ears. Making his way to the origin of the noise, the werewolf entered the living room to see Lydia and the sheriff crouching over a prone body on the floor.

There was scattered glass from the glass table that they had had since he was young. Scott couldn't count how many times his mother had told Stiles off for putting his feet on the clean glass but now… His best friend was laying on the wreckage of glass and metal, head cradled in his father's hands and glass speared through his chest. There was a towel pressed to the wound, around the glass, that was already soaked through.

Scott's chest filled with dread as he came to stand behind Lydia, the sheriff already calling to him.

"Scott we have to get him off the glass, he's not breathing we have to get him breathing again."

Scott nodded in understanding. They had to be careful not to move the spear of glass but they couldn't perform CPR with the risk of putting any more shards through him.

Scott hurriedly took Stiles lower half while the sheriff took his shoulders and head, both lifting the teenager from the glass to the carpet away from the mess. Lydia scrambled to get the backpack off of Stiles before they set him down, John immediately starting compression's.

John felt a few tears trail down his cheeks as he laced his fingers over his son's chest, blood already staining his skin. He pushed rhythmically down on his boys sternum and grunted out to Scott.

"Call an ambulance, we can't wait for the others to get rid of that coyote woman, as long as they can keep her away from the EMT's it will be enough. Call them now."

Scott pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed while Lydia sobbed, clutching Stiles' hand so hard her knuckles were white.

John continued counting out his compression's and turned to the scared Banshee.

"Lydia I need you to breathe for him okay? Two breaths when I stop compression's, ready?"

The girl nodded and waited till the man stopped before leaning over and taking Stiles face in her hands. She titled his head back and held his nose like she knew she was supposed to. Her pink lips pressed to his blue ones and pushed air into his chest before she lent back and let the sheriff resume compression's. She couldn't stop crying. His lips had felt so cold on hers and his hand was limp and heavy. She could feel how close he was, how thin the thread of life was. He was barely holding on.

"Stiles, please don't go. I can't live in a world without you, I can't lose anyone else. Please don't leave me." She couldn't hold this pain in, the agony of his imminent death threatening to split her chest in two. She could barely breathe when he wasn't. The Sheriff's own sobs came out as he continued to pump down on his child's chest, trying desperately to get him to breathe again. But he was losing too much blood.

Scott was barely listening to the woman on the phone because all he could hear was his brother's heart beat tripping over itself trying to keep going. It was weak and slow. And then it stopped.

"No! Stiles!"

Lydia screamed the boy's name as she knelt next to him, doing everything she could to keep the scream inside. But the banshee in her would not be calmed, much like Scott's wolf as he howled.

The Sheriff looked at the two in shock, placing his shaking fingers against Stiles' pale neck, before breaking down into sobs as he felt nothing.

"No Stiles, come on son, you don't get to leave me. I'm not losing you too, come back to me."

He could no longer see through his tears but the father placed his hands back on his kid's chest as he tried to breathe through his sobs and tried to get his kids heart going again. His hands pushed, feeling the strain on Stiles' ribs as he did so but he did not give up. He would not let this world take his son. He was still so young, still just a kid, and he was not going to give up on him.

The EMT's arrived, hurtling through the door and coming towards the wreckage. One of the medics took over for The Sheriff, another one placing ambu bag over Stiles' mouth and nose while the third got the defibrillator charged up. John watched his sons shirt being cut open, the bruises his hands had made already blooming across the pale chest even as it was smeared with blood. He moved back to let the EMT's do their work and silently apologized to his son for leaving him. He wanted, more than anything, to just hold his little boy in his arms, alive and safe. He wanted his little boy to be okay.

Scott could hardly breathe through the pain of losing his brother but stood to take Lydia in his arms, dragging her away from the body on the floor, so that the medics could take care of him. The banshee did not want to move an inch from her human but Scott's strong hands gathered her to his chest.

Lydia started crying harder when the whine of the defibrillator pierced the air. She held her breath in terror as she watched them bring the paddles to Stiles' chest, yelling 'Clear!' as they sent electricity arching through his prone chest.

Lydia jumped in the alphas arms as she watched Stiles chest jerk upwards before it slumped back to the floor with a thump. It was as if she was being shocked along with him, her whole body tensing in Scott's arms as they watched their pack mate.

After four sickening shocks Scott could finally hear something. It was small, fluttery and weak but it was there. A heartbeat.

(sorry this is so shit im kind of hung over)


	4. Chapter 4

Once Stiles was alive and breathing he had been quickly loaded into the ambulance and taken away. Everyone following behind to the hospital, unwilling to leave Stiles for very long.

That was two days ago. Lydia sat beside Stiles' bed and rubbed his limp hand as she held it in hers. He was on the mend but had lost a lot of blood. Melissa said he was doing great with his recovery, he would just be weak and tired for a while.

Lydia looked up at his face, thankfully pinker than the ashen shade he had been at first, and sighed.

"I still don't know if you can hear me but I hope you can. Stiles I…. I watched you die. I don't want to do that again so when you wake up you have to promise me that you'll be more careful. No more taking on ware-coyotes by yourself."

The banshee smiled a little.

"Maybe we can take self-defense classes together. I'd love to learn how to take down a bad guy by myself and I'm sure you have a lot of movie fight scenes to recreate with Scott."

Her eyes misted up as she looked at the sleeping boy in the bed. He was still covered in bandages and wires but his breathing was even and deep and the constant beeps from the monitors told the banshee his heart was just fine.

"Stiles I don't know what I would do if we lost you. You should have heard Scott howling when your heart stopped. And your Dad… You can't leave us. Ever. I won't let you."

Lydia stood and hesitantly lent over the boy she had fought beside for years. His eyelashes dark against his pale skin. Lips parted just a little. The Banshee lent down and captured his lips in her own, just a soft kiss, a promise, for when he woke up. She kept her lips close to his, so they brushed as she moved them, as she whispered.

"I love you Stiles."

Lydia brought her hand up to smooth his hair back, weaving her fingers through it and relishing in this closeness and touch that she had never been gifted with before. She could hold him and soak in his presence. He was here and safe.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek before sitting down again, his hand still in hers.

…..

Stiles didn't know where he was but he knew he was safe. He was warm, a soft kind of warm like when you snuggle down into your blankets on a cold morning, not wanting to leave your toasty bed.

He knew he was safe because he wasn't in pain anymore either. He remembered pain, and red, and cold. He wasn't sure what had happened but it was gone and for now that was enough.

The human was coming closer to the surface of whatever he was in. The blackness maybe. There was noise and touch but he couldn't open his eyes. He hardly wanted them to open, didn't really try, he was far too tired. But someone was holding his hand. Soft hands, gentle and caring. He wanted to curl his fingers and hold the hand back but his muscles decided not to obey.

Whoever was holding his hand was talking but they were too far away for him to hear. He caught the ends of words, heard the little sniffs from the person that told him they were crying. While he didn't know what they were saying he liked hearing them. The soft voice, so gentle, he felt loved and calm. Nothing bad could happen while this person was here.

Then the person came closer. He could feel her presence, smell her perfume, feel her hair tickling his neck. Lydia. She was here. And holding his hand. Stiles tried to concentrate on what she was saying but his mind was too fuzzy to unscramble the words. It wasn't until he felt her soft lips on his own that he heard her.

"I love you Stiles."

He thought his heart may have ballooned in size at those words. His heart was so full. She loved him. It was everything. She was so warm against him and he could have purred at her touch in his hair. He loved every part of her and Stiles wished he could move so he could kiss her back or take her in his arms and just hold her.

His mind was clogged and slow but he fought with everything he had and finally his fingers curled. It was barley a twitch but it was just enough to make her gasp and hold on tighter.

"Stiles?"

It was harder than anything he'd done before but after a few seconds his eyelids flickered. Light shone through and burned his eyes but it would all be worth it if he could see her. Stiles could hear a chair scrape against the floor, at Lydia's sudden movement as she stood. He blinked his eyes open a crack and felt his lips tug upwards in a smile. She was leaning over him, with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face.

"Lydia."

His words were slurred and he tried again, squeezing her hand.

"Love you too."

Tears fell down her perfect cheeks and Stiles wanted to brush them away, but they were happy tears and he could taste them as she pressed her lips to his. Now that he was awake he could return the kiss and properly take in her closeness and presence. She lent back, parting their lips, to let out an almost hysterical laugh, though she was still crying.

The banshee cradled Stiles' face in her free hand and peppered kisses all over his face letting out words in between.

"You're awake. You're here. You're okay."

Stiles laughed as she kissed him, drunk off her touch. They would have to tell his dad and the rest of the pack that he was awake at some point but for now he was hers.


	5. Chapter 5

( so sorry this is so shit and took so long but here you go anyway)

Scott had known Stiles since they were four. They had met at kindergarten when Stiles had threatened to arrest another kid for pulling Lydia Martins hair.

"My Daddy's a policeman and he'll put you in jail!" Lydia had the situation handled herself, already having pushed the kid away and stomped off to tell the teacher, but Stiles had insisted that she was a princess and it was high treason to hurt the royal highness.

Scott had been amazed, having watched the whole thing from the reading corner, and went up to this strange, loud kid.

"Your Daddy's a policeman?"

Stiles had turned and smiled, his chest puffed and shoulders back with pride.

"Yep! He's the best too. He saves people and kills bad guys like a superhero."

Scott smiled back, his brown eyes sparkling in excitement.

"Wow! My Mommy saves people too. She works in the hobspital."

From that day on the two had been inseparable, always causing trouble and more than a few headaches for their parents and teachers. Stiles had been his brother for fourteen years. His best friend, his pack mate, and Scott McCalls heart was full of him. Stiles was such a huge part of Scott and when he had died he felt as if his chest had been cracked in two, his heart ripped in half when his brother left him.

A howl had ripped from his throat, deep and agonizing. There was nothing that came close to the pain of losing someone that close to you.

But then his heart had started beating again.

Sitting in the chair beside his brother's bed now, Scott held the boys twitching hand and smiled. Stiles was okay, had even woken up for a few minutes that morning. He was okay. They all would be.

Scott knew that his pack would always be the center of the never ending shit show this town drew in, but he knew, without a doubt, that as long as Stiles and the rest of his pack were with him, they would be okay.

The past two days had been an exhausting 48 hours, with Stiles in surgery to remove the glass and re-inflate and patch up his lung, and then waiting for him to wake up. The scent of the humans' blood had been everywhere and Scott had thrown up twice in the shower before he managed to scrub it off his skin and replace it with the scent of his mother's shampoo.

The Sheriff and the banshee had to be forced to get any sleep or food, Scott literally carrying Lydia to a bed so that she could get some proper sleep. He still didn't know how he would go back into his house where Stiles' blood soaked the carpet and a few towel's, without throwing up or becoming a crying mess. The Sheriff offered to pay for everything but Melissa had only shushed him and pressed a sandwich into the mans hands.

Scott looked to the boy in the bed now, trying to keep his breathing calm as he took him in. His skin was pinker than it had been, thanks to the blood that had been given to replace what he'd lost, but he was still pale. A nasal cannula ran under the boys nose to make breathing a little easier while his lungs healed, and wires and tubes snaked all over, taped down and hooked up to machines.

Scott hated to see his best friend so vulnerable in that white bed and so closing his eyes, the Alpha raised his pack mates hand to his nose. Stiles' scent filled his nose, replacing the antiseptic smell of the hospital, and when he concentrated he could hear the determined, pounding beat of Stiles' heart. Scott could listen to that heartbeat for hours, the rhythmic pulsing beats calming him in a way that calmed him and the wolf inside. The pulse was proof that Stiles had won the ultimate battle. He had fought death and won. Scott just hoped he had gotten to see his mother before he came back. Stiles deserved to be able to talk to his mom. In fact he deserved so much more, more than Scott could give.

Scott still had Stiles' hand in his, nose pressed to the back of the humans' hand, when those long pale fingers curled. Eyes whirling open, the alpha looked to his friends face and saw those bright brown eyes that he had first seen when he was four, and had known, as if they were his own, ever since.

"Stiles." The name came as a sigh of relief. He's awake.

"Hey buddy. Whatcha doin there?"

Scott squeezed his pack mates hand and rubbed his nose against it, unashamed even as Stiles smiled cheekily.

"Holding my brothers hand. I could get drunk off your scent man, you have no idea how happy I am that you smell like you and not like blood and death anymore."

Stiles breathed out a laugh, careful not to breathe too deeply and hurt anything.

"That's got to be the gayest thing you've ever said to me. I'll still love ya even if you are gay but I got tell you Scott I think I've finally got the Lydia thing locked down."

Scott laughed and smiled knowingly.

"It's not gay if we're brothers. And I know, I heard her say she loved you."

Scott's smile faded a little, his eyes growing serious as he looked down at their clasped hands.

"You died Stiles…."

Stiles squeezed Scott's hand till he looked up, smiling in reassurance.

"You guys saved me. I'm okay now Scott, I'm not going anywhere I promise."

Scott nodded and returned his nose to Stiles' hand.

"You know," Stiles said gently. "If you keep smelling my hand like that you're going to get dizzy from the meds in my blood."

Scott let out a small smile.

"I can't get drunk anymore so maybe this is like a cheat."

Stiles rubbed his hand against his alpha's nose with a chuckle.

"Well by all means then, go ahead. I don't think I've ever been graced with Drunk Scott. It might be fun. You know, before your mum and my dad kick both our asses for getting you high in a hospital."

Scott made a show of dragging in a huge sniff, making Stiles laugh so hard his monitors started beeping irritably. Scott had his brother. He had everything.


End file.
